Keep the Coffee Comimg

I am behind closed doors driven inside by the heat and humidity. At nine thirty it was already 81˚. I expect I will spend all day inside though maybe I’ll go out in the early evening to the deck just for a bit of humid, stale air.

I am older than I ever thought about being. When I was a kid, I saw myself old in my twenties and nearly decrepit by my thirties. I wanted to be thirteen then sixteen then twenty one so I could vote and drink. That age seemed the pinnacle of life when I was ten. Now, I am older than 70. Parts of me are wearing out. It takes a bit for me to recall a name or a place. Sometimes if I doodle a little, the waiting time brings back what I need. Other times it comes back to me but long after I needed it. I wear my glasses all the time. I want to see where I’m going, actually, not proverbially. My back is bent and painful. My knee hurts. I have carpel tunnel syndrome in my most useful wrist and hand. I used to carry 50 pounds of cat litter upstairs. Now, heavy is lightweight. I carry things a little at a time. I have adjusted to getting older.

I consider myself lucky because I love living every single day. I marvel at sunsets and starlit nights. I remember the first time I saw the man in the moon. He was grinning then and he still grins now. I have a wonderful family and amazing friends. I have seen a bit of the world and am chomping (or champing) at the bit to see more. I have a list. My body may ache but it gets where I need to go, just far more slowly. I haven’t lost my sense of humor or my appreciation for the absurd. When I’m driving, I sometimes have to stop to appreciate up close the beauty which caught my eye: the garden filled with flowers, the ocean or a cranberry bog red with berries. Christmas delights me just as it had when I was a kid. I love the smell of the tree and the colored lights in my yard. I stand and admire my garden every morning. I watch really bad science fiction movies and love them every time. I am happy with life.

I had an early appointment this morning, and I was stunned when I went outside. The air was so humid I had trouble getting a deep breath. Nothing moved: not a leaf, not a branch and not a bird. Even they were quiet. I jumped into the car and got the AC blasting just so I could breathe. This humidity has to stop. We need a dry day. Even one dry day would make all of us happy and much less grumpy.

The sky goes from sunny to cloudy. I actually have no preference. I wish the cloudy meant rain, but it doesn’t and hasn’t.

After I learned I couldn’t be a priest, I decided to be a teacher. Professional women in my younger days were generally teachers or nurses, but I didn’t know I was bound by these choices. I just figured you could be whatever it was you wanted to be, and I wanted to be a teacher. These women were my heroes. They had such power they could bring me back to attention with a single look or word. They also had these amazing talents like being able to see behind them, identifying whisperers without looking up from their desks and writing straight and beautifully on the blackboard. That was the one I envied the most. No matter how hard I concentrated, my blackboard writing tended to angle up so high I almost couldn’t reach it, and the letters were so cramped you couldn’t read them. Teachers always knew all the answers. Stump the teacher was a game doomed to failure. I knew by the time I was ten that I would be a teacher.

I started college on the teaching track but got sidelined junior year. The law grabbed me with such intensity that teaching faded from my memory. I saw myself as a female Perry Mason confounding my Hamilton Burger with legal tricks pulled from my magician’s hat, tricks which always showed the innocence of my client and exposed the guilty.

Senior year I applied to law school and to the Peace Corps, even got an offer for a teaching job, but it was the Peace Corps pulling me. It just seemed the right thing to do: to give a paltry two years for the life I’d had and the opportunities I’d been given. When I was accepted, I was so joyful I wanted to run up and down the streets announcing my good fortune to the world. I was also accepted into law school but decided to defer if I could for the two years. I could, and I did.

I taught for those two years and couldn’t imagine spending my life doing anything else. I never went to law school though I still think Perry Mason and I have a lot in common. Instead, I chose to teach, and “…that has made all the difference.”

Okay, today was another mirror under the nose morning. I slept until after eleven. My guess is all the activity of the last couple of days did me in. I shopped, schlepped bags into the house, and yesterday I was on my feet cutting up veggies and fruit for dinner and going back and forth to the deck bringing stuff. Luckily one of my friends cooked the dogs and both of them cleaned up the deck at the end of the evening. I sat like a queen on her throne.

The movie Dick was well received as I knew it would be. We laughed a lot. I so love my movie set-up. It is such fun watching a movie outside. Last night there was even a little breeze so the leaves rustled a bit. We could see fireflies and hear the night sounds. We got not only the movie but also the best parts of the nighttime.

When I was a kid, I loved going to the drive-in. The one we always went to had a playground, and at intermission kids clad in pajamas, slippers and robes played on the different equipment. I always gravitated to the swings. I liked to jump off in mid-air. Little kids seemed to like the slide. Behind us was the concession stand, and I remember the smell of burgers cooking and popcorn popping.

I have returned from the doctor. What amazed me was I noticed the driving I did today equaled the same number of miles I drove all of last week when mostly I stayed close to home and shopped only in nearby stores. With nothing planned the whole of the rest of this week, my mileage this and last week may end up the same. I am most decidedly a homebody.

My mother would have been 91 today. I think of her always. Happy Birthday, Mom!!

Today is hot and humid. It is also dark and cloudy. The forecast is maybe rain. The storms of the last few days bypassed us. North of us got inches of rain. We got clouds. Nothing is worse than clouds by the seashore.

The humidity is back. Showers are a possibility. Tonight is movie night so I hope not. I grocery shopped for everything yesterday. The menu is heavy on fruit. Blueberries and watermelon are the appetizers and a mango salad is one of the sides. We’re going all-American and having hot dogs, no beans though.

Outside is just so quiet. Nothing is moving. The leaves are still, and the kids are somewhere else. The rental house next door is empty. My neighbors aren’t on their deck. I could be on an island with only a noisy dog chewing his bone.

I wish I knew more than one language and snippets of a couple of others. I survived South American with my college Spanish and French West Africa with my high school French, but I never had complicated conversations. I asked for directions, ordered food, bought bus tickets and greeted people. I can still speak a little Hausa but mostly greetings. I hear far more than I can say. I guess that’s a small consolation.

Shoes are mostly just to wear. I seldom make fashion statements. When I worked, I did, but now I have no need. I wear sort of flip flops but with a middle strap and thicker rubber. I wear slippers in the winter and often forget to change to go outside. I have some great sneakers in a rainbow of colors. My newest are red. My closet floor has all sorts of footwear, and there are boxes as well stacked on the sides of the closet. One of my sometime in the future to do list items is to check what shoes I have by organizing the floor pairs and looking into each box. I do know I have three or four colored winter wool clogs. Those I wear.

Some chores I really hate. Washing clothes is one of them only because I have to haul the clean clothes up two sets of stairs, and my back complains loudly. The other is changing sheets. I have to work around a dog, and I’m creating laundry. The task itself means walking around the bed more than a few times laying down the bottom sheet and pulling the top sheet until both sides are equal then tucking it in. The spread is another problem. It takes a while until both sides are equal. Lately my spread has been folded at the bottom of the bed. Henry sleeps on it, and it is ready for the washing machine. I guess I’ll partner it with the sheets.

I just turned the air conditioner on. At this stage of my life, I live for comfort.

The morning is dark, rain coming dark. It is cooler than it has been. My windows and doors are open. I have to go out later, and I dread it. The tourists will be on the roads looking for something to do. The lines at the lights will go farther than my eyes can see. I will go around the traffic if I can.

Last night South Pacific was wonderful. The opening songs gave me a sense of nostalgia. I was reminded of when I sat on the living room floor and listened to my mother’s hifi as Mary Martin and Ezio Panza sang. I read the record jacket so many times I had it memorized. I knew the words of all of the songs last night. I loved the man sitting in front of me. His shoulders and head moved to the music. He was enjoying every song. He made me smile. The song You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught is a favorite. It has always been topical, especially now. It was criticized because of its lyrics concerning relationships between different races. I found an article in Wikipedia which said, “While the show was on a tour of the Southern United States lawmakers in Georgia introduced a bill outlawing entertainment containing “an underlying philosophy inspired by Moscow.” One legislator said that “a song justifying interracial marriage was implicitly a threat to the American way of life.” That does not sound unfamiliar.

When I was a kid, my town was filled with people of Irish and Italian ancestry. I never really saw other than white people and the Chinese men at the laundry and the China Moon until college. My school had one Black guy. My mother told me when I was three, we were in an elevator at Sears Roebuck when a Black lady got on. I asked my mother why the lady had different colored skin. The woman went off at my mother and me screaming about white trash. My mother said I was frightened by the screaming, and she hustled us off at the next floor. I guess it is a bit of irony I was posted to Ghana and was often the only white person just about everywhere. The only issue I had was when I was offered deference. I always turned it down. It seemed unfair.

I have laundry to do and a Sox game to watch.

The doors and windows have been open since last night. My bedroom window even had a breeze so it was easy falling asleep. Now, it is hot in the sun so I’m opting for shade under the umbrella where the slight breeze can find me. Henry was with me here on the deck then went back inside. He likes the coolness of the den, and he stretches out on the couch.

It is getting hotter and the breeze has just about disappeared. It will be in the mid-80’s today and down to the high 60’s tonight. I’ll be delighted.

I have a few errands today so I’m being forced to get out and about. I also have a play tonight, South Pacific. I am not crazy about musicals, but I sort of like this one. When I was a kid, I used to take records out of the library. I remember taking out South Pacific and Camelot and some Christmas records. I have favorite songs from each of these musicals, and I’m a sucker for Christmas music.

I have these weird little memories. Once I was on a bus and an older woman was sitting on one of the long front seats, the ones which face each other. She was talking the whole time to a woman across from her as she lit her cigarette. I watched as she put the lit end in her mouth. One night in Ghana I was visiting a friend who lived not all that far away but too far to walk. I borrowed a bike. As I was leaving, my friend told me to be careful at the end of his driveway as there was a dip I wouldn’t see in the darkness. I got close to the end and fell, in anticipation. I got up, walked the bike over the dip then got back on and rode home. When I was around ten, my brother and I were befriended by one of the zoo keepers. He let me in with Babe, the elephant, to feed her. I remember hearing a kid saying out loud he was amazed that a girl was in with the elephant. I felt proud and masterful, though I didn’t know that last word yet. I just remember the feeling. I remember my first bank account and how proud I was every time I put in money, mostly coins and a stray dollar bill. I still feel the same way even though the amount is a bit bigger. Learning to tie my shoes was a huge accomplishment not up there with riding a bike but close. I still remember the concentration it took on the loops.

Over time I have forgotten so much but sometimes a memory bubbles to the surface. Good or bad doesn’t matter. I’m just glad for the memory, for the added piece of my life.

The thunder woke me up. At first I didn’t realize what I’d heard then it thundered again. I got out of bed to check, but it wasn’t raining, at least not yet. I came downstairs, put the coffee on and went to get the papers. Big drops of rain started just as I got back to the door then it poured. It was a sheet of rain falling straight down, rain so loud it muffled every sound except the thunder. Henry barked hoping to scare off the thunder, but when it cracked overhead, Henry howled. Since then, though, the rain has just about stopped. The sky is getting lighter.

The week has been quiet, but I’m not complaining. I got to finish a book, catch up on some DVR’ed programs and take a nap or two. Tomorrow night is my play at the Cape Playhouse, Saturday is movie night and Monday I have a doctor’s appointment. The rest of my date book for all of next week is empty.

When I was a kid, the summer seemed endless. Every day was filled with fun. I remember once my brother and I rode our bikes to East Boston to visit our grandparents. We knew the route from all the times my father had driven there on Sundays. I always sat by the back car window so I watched how we went. That route meant a ride along 1A, a busy highway. We went pass the miniature golf course with the giant dinosaur, risked our lives crossing two rotaries, drove by St. Anthony’s church, went by the dog track, the oil tanks and the oilers moored by the tanks. It smelled gross, like oil. We were getting close to my grandparents when we saw the Madonna on the mountain. My grandfather was shocked to see. He immediately called my mother who was shocked, a bit scared because of the traffic and angry we’d do something like that. My grandfather gave us each a dime from his endless supply on the table by his bed and sent us on our way. Our trip home was uneventful.

The thunder started again a bit ago then the rain came as heavily. I looked out the back door at the rain and saw the lightning. The rain is slanted this time, coming from the north. I get to stand at the back door and watch. I so love a good thunderstorm.

I am getting cranky. Being inside all this time is beginning to feel like house arrest. I go out on the deck, but it doesn’t take long for the heat and humidity to chase me back inside. Today, though, I get to go to the dump. I know it will be be hotter than almost anywhere else on Earth, but I don’t care. I would never have expected the dump to be my salvation.

During my life I have observed and learned many new things about me and the world around me, but some of these have raised mostly unanswerable questions.

Cooking show chefs never scrape and always leave things in bowls and pots while I religiously scrape. Are they really that great in eyeing measurements? I don’t dare to add something without using my cup and spoon measures.

Why is it in cleaning one mess, I often inadvertently cause another? How silly it is when cleaning the floor I don’t check above me and end up banging my head on something.

How do I always step on that one slick spot which takes me down? What kind of luck is that? The last time I slipped I did no damage. The time before that I fractured my wrist.

I find when stuck in rush hour traffic that when I change to the fast moving lane it becomes the slow lane.

I always get behind the school bus which stops at every two street corners. I suspect it is not the original route but a bus driver being nice. It drives me and the long trail of cars behind me just as crazy.

I swear I am being watched. Every time I lie down to have a nap the phone rings. The calls are from states like Alabama and Texas.

I always step on the acorn. That sounds cryptic I’m sure, but think of the acorn as symbolic. If there is one thing to step on, I find it. That also includes cat or dog pooh.

Why did that that one goat turn into my motorcycle while it was standing still and I was holding it? Of course, I would get a burn.

Mostly I consider myself lucky, but these small things seem to dog me. Are they preventable? I don’t think so. They are part and parcel of who I am. They are the fabric of  my life.

Yesterday, the rain started in the early afternoon and continued into the evening. It rained heavily at times, and I could hear the rain hitting the windows, but I wished for a tin roof like the one on my house in Ghana. During the rainy season, I used to sit and listen to the rain pounding the roof over my head. I love that memory. I love the sound of rain.

Henry wanted out early this morning. The air was still damp from the rain, and I could smell the ocean. I stayed on the deck a long time. Henry went inside without me.

I love the morning sounds of the first birds. Their singing starts just before the sunrise.  At first light, the other birds join the chorus.

Every morning I get my newspapers from the driveway in front of my house. This time of year I stop and look at the garden. Yesterday I noticed the hollyhocks have begun blooming. The white with pink centers are in front, and the red hollyhocks are in the back. The flowers are eye-catching.

There have been extraordinary moments in my life. My memories of these moments  delight me. Graduating from college is one of the first. No one in my family had ever gone to college. I always expected I would. Getting a special delivery letter on a Sunday from the Peace Corps announcing my acceptance still stands as one of my favorites. In Ecuador, I remember standing at the equator with one foot in each hemisphere. In Lapland, Finland, in the Arctic Circle, I remember the herd of reindeer running on the road followed by their Lapp herder. Watching my boat being pulled through the Panama Canal at night under a blaze of lights was amazing. The mules, really electric locomotives, pulled the ship through. Stepping out of the plane onto the steps at the airport in Accra, Ghana was almost overwhelming. I was in Africa. Being with my family and walking under the falls at Niagara is one of my first travel memories. I rode a camel in the Sahara Desert. We rode up Mount Washington. My father drove. I remember how cold it was at the summit. There are more, but these are enough for now.

My life has been a series of moments strung together to form a lifetime. Some have been momentous but most of them have been ordinary. I’m happy regardless.